Redemption
by Iseria Dweller
Summary: Sunrise was approaching and within seconds, Wylfred would simply be a memory, a ghost of the past.


_**Redemption**_

He was like a corpse of a victim who had indulged in the art of suicide. The kind of corpse you don't wish to see but yet you find that you cannot tear your eyes away. Rage painted his delicate young features. It was so beautiful that you just can't help but wonder what kind of tragedy had the Nornirs burden him with and yet, there is an aura of danger protecting him from people like you.

_People who have the tendency to question for things you are not supposed to know. _

As Wylfred strode through the crowded streets, people began eyeing him. Some even went as far as pointing at him. He was sure that there would be some who would even mutter about how unique he looked like.

By 'unique', they probably meant how beautiful his appearance was. Alternatively, since this is the modern world, it could also mean that he looked like a freak in the eyes of several people.

Wylfred did not care one bit for their voices were muted out by the sound of his radio coming to life on his portable music player which meant that he was finally far away from one of the portals of Helheim.

The date was currently 30 December, 2013 and around him, people were busy running around, preparing for the New Year's countdown. Wylfred subconsciously tugged the hood of his jacket down lower to cover his hair and face. He looked just like any other ordinary teenage punk making his way back home from school despite the fact that he was probably old enough to be your great grand father.

Ailyth had taught him the basics of how to get by in the modern society. He had often been forced to accompany her on various errands from time to time and it was through observation did Wylfred managed to figure out how to various modern devices worked.

After serving Queen Hel for more then a thousand centuries, Wylfred was finally free. He had the option of being reincarnated or going up to Valhalla where the Asgardians could put his swordsmanship skills to good use.

The thought of facing his former comrades that he had traveled with and used as a sacrifice to that dreadful feather scared him more then the thought of being killed in order to face the process of reincarnation.

It was of no wonder did Wylfred tell the Queen of Helheim that he wished to be reincarnated.

The harsh Alaskan winter air blew the hood of his jacket back yet again. Sighing in mild irritation, he reached his gloved fingers up and ran it through his messy hair. Midnight was nearly there.

The smell of petrol and various other chemicals clouded Wylfred's nose as cars whizzed by. Very soon, Ailyth would be there to pick him up….to grant him his wish and his freedom on behalf of her mistress.

But Ailyth didn't really understood why Wylfred wanted a walk around Midgard.

Wylfred had specifically told Ailyth's mistress that he wanted to visit his home for one last time. Sitting down on a snow covered bench, he watched as a young lady scurried out from a convenience store with a cellphone to her ear, apparently in a heated conversation with her friend.

The young lady spared him a very curious glance before getting into her car.

Wylfred was then reminded of Cheripha.

Just then, he felt an all too familiar presence approaching him from the back. He made no move to acknowledge the presence for he knew who it was already, having spent nearly his entire existence with her.

"Lord Wylfred." Ailyth sang out cheerfully. "It is time to go."

Wordlessly, he got up, silently bid good bye to the empty bench and began walking away slowly, disappearing into the night with his companion.

Thousands of years ago, where that empty bench had been was where he had eaten dinner with his mother, father and little sister Elsie. Where that convenience store stood had once been his playground where he, Ancel and Elsie would play a game of tag.

But like that little playground, Ancel, his mother, father and Elsie, Wylfred would soon be gone.

As the night began to give way to the rising sun, somewhere in a sterile hospital room, a mother happily cradled her new born son.


End file.
